


From Me To You

by GarbageHell



Category: Borderlands
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Incest, Slow Burn, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-08
Updated: 2015-06-19
Packaged: 2018-04-03 11:10:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4098883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GarbageHell/pseuds/GarbageHell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The coincidence of a solar flare and a thunderstorm is enough to scare Jack and Angel into a closeness neither had been looking for. Deciding to act on it or ignore it is the difficult part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just an idea that got out of hand; thought this little ship needed something that wasn't sad. I could have edited this for the next five years to really give this the feel I was going for, but sometimes you just need to let what you've made loose and move on to other projects.

     There’s a recent memory, vivid as can be without managing to be overbearing. He double checks the calendar in a moment of calm; three weeks? As he feels the eye of the storm start to pass, he takes the time to smile back on it. They’d sat out on one of the benches, his fingers winding vines around themselves idly as they talked. The light took hours to fade from Elpis, changing the sky from bright blue all the way to a bright peachy orange down into purples. The falling temperature persuaded them to go back inside, and even the familiar twinkle of stars wasn’t persuasion enough to stay.

* * *

 

     Unfortunately, the sun’s already set on Angel’s tower tonight. Almost eighteen hours ago, according to the data from the glowing screen on Jack’s desk. He wishes he could spend every sunset with her, but there are reasons not to; even he has responsibilities that call him away, no matter how many body doubles or excuses he throws at them. And he’s never wanted to smother her. Flowers need room to grow- those are his excuses, at least.

     Tonight’s going to be one of the nights he does get to see her, which he should be happy about- and he is happy, even if only a little. Unfortunately, the occasion is a little unpleasant. Hours ago some eggheads in a department Jack doesn’t dedicate enough memory to remember the name of got his attention; he half listened to them explain their little problem until they mentioned the effects on the Control Core. He perked up, told them to repeat themselves; poor bastards almost fainted at his sudden attention. He got the rundown from them, and while they could have been a little less wordy he let them go instead of doing any number of the unpleasant things he’d thought of, because he’d felt panic gripping him for the first time in a long time.

     A solar flare, they said. Jack of course, was no spring chicken when it came to what that meant for technology. Up in the station, they have everything essential shielded and coated heavily against hiccoughs like this- life support, things like that. Protection against solar radiation is the basics when it comes to living in space, after all. Down on Pandora though, there’s only the soft atmosphere to cushion the flare. As amusing as it is to think of all those bandits pissing and squawking in fear of the dark like the animals they are as the technology blinks out, he realizes what that means for his Angel.

     Her collar will turn off.

     His stomach does loops just thinking about it. The collar is a failsafe, of course. A just-in-case, a preventative measure against another incident. And apparently, it’s not actually as fail safe as he’d hoped. He lets out a deep breath, trying not to worry but knowing all the same it’s going to be a hard night for her no matter what; beyond worrying about the collar she’s also going to have to deal with the echonet going down. As useful as it is, it’s hardly life support. The servers supporting it aren’t protected save for the most vital ones. At least that would have been a distraction.

     She’s been connected to the echonet for years now; and sure, Jack would admit that once or twice he “took it away” when she misbehaved, but this isn’t quite the same. By connected, he means so much more than what that word can convey. She told him once when the system was down for maintenance it was like someone turning her eyes off, or her sense of balance. And even when he “unplugged” her as it were, it was still there and she knew it. He’s pretty sure she was still hooked in somehow anyway, despite his best attempts. Years of research still hadn’t done much to dispel the mystery of her powers.

     All in all, things are stacking up against her. As soon as he’s gathered his thoughts, he calls her, checking a list and packing things away as he does. He isn’t going to stay up here and let Angel get through the night alone. The call takes a moment to connect, but that’s no reason to worry. She’s usually not exactly quick to answer.

     Miles below, Angel breaks out of the trance she was in, easing back into her body and away from the encompassing interface of the echonet. Her gaze lingers on the blinking device, and she slowly comes back to herself. She looks at the time before reaching for it.

     “Jack?” She answers after a dozen rings, and he feels a tight smile pull across his face. He can’t help it.

     “Hiya sweetheart; how are you?” He asks, reassured to hear her voice.

     “Well” She replies, “Just settling into a phaseshift. Nothing out of the ordinary. What’s going on?”

     “Well, I got some good news and some not so good news. Which you wanna hear first, baby?” He asks, rolling up another shirt and stuffing it into his bag. He’s not going to need it, really, but being over prepared never hurt.

     “Good news first.” She says, and he nods.

     “A fine choice. Well, I’m going to be coming down shortly and spending a while with you.” he says, and she smiles on the other end.

     “I’m happy to hear that,” She says, and she is, despite the guarded tone. She’s grown out of asking him to come visit, but she has missed him.

     “But what’s the bad news?” she continues, and the resignation in her voice kills him.

     “Well, you ever heard of a solar flare?” he asks, knowing full well she’s going to slip away a moment and find out if not. There’s a silence over the line, punctuated with a hum here and there and then a single “Oh.” and then she’s back with him.

     “…That sounds unpleasant.” She says, still curious about the bad news. She’s probably got it figured out by now, he knows, but she waits for his words before jumping to conclusions.

     “Yeah, I thought so too. They spotted a pretty nasty one headed for us earlier; they say it shouldn’t last more than eightish hours.” He replies, chewing his lip. It’s a habit he doesn’t let many see. He hears her hum a response on the other end.

     “When’s it set to hit?” She asks, feeling an anxious, nervous stirring in her stomach. She curls her hands around the hem of her dress, fabric bunching tightly. She doesn’t notice.

     “You have about hour before things will shut off, and I’m going to be down very, very soon. Anything you want me to bring for you?” he asks, and she doesn’t respond right away, thinking. He’s got his bag almost full; he needs to make a few more calls after this one and get a few more things in order before he goes down.

     “I’ll call back if I think of anything.” She says, and her eyes dart around the room, looking any sort of visual cue that might bring something to mind. Frustratingly, nothing jumps out at her.

     “Alright pumpkin, see you soon. I love you.” He says.

     “I love you too.” She replies, and she ends the call. She pulls a frown across her face and taps a finger against the smooth surface of counter in her kitchen. Her stomach knots up a little, and she’s not sure she knows exactly how to feel. She notices she’s shivering after a few minutes and heads to her bedroom, kicking aside clothing piles to find a sweater. It’s comforting, and she shrugs into its oversized form easily, but it doesn’t stop the shivers and she worries the zipper and sits on her bed. On one hand, there’s no reason to worry. None at all. The flare will disperse, and in the meantime she’ll have Jack to keep her company. She frowns. There’s already enough food to last for days here, and the tower’s removed enough from the world below that no one would come looking. Besides, if they did, Jack could take care of them. No matter what, he’d be there to keep her safe.

     Her hand slips away from the zipper and up to her collar, which she strokes with the tips of her fingers only gently. She touches it like someone exploring the tenderness of a wound.

     There’ll be no one to protect him from her, however.

     She tells herself not to worry as she gets up to pick up around her room a little, tossing stray clothes into a more orderly pile. It’s been a while since Jack had visited, and thus also a while since she’d cleaned up, a little too invested in other things to care. There are more pressing matters, she realizes, quickly after she starts, than cleaning her room. If the whole complex will be dark, there’s no need to straighten up. Busywork might be distracting to her mind, but she realizes she should probably actually prepare for the blackout. But she keeps drawing blanks as she tries to think of what needs to be done- this place was built to be a safe haven, and, well, it is.

     She takes a moment to check something on the echonet and then sighs at what she finds- the one thing she can think of, and there’s nothing she can do about it. Half a minute later, she’s opening the door to the balcony. As the air rushes in past her, she finds herself so glad they won’t have to worry about life support or atmosphere control. One of the benefits of living planetside, she reflects.

     The air is cool, but not cold, and Angel walks slowly up to the southern side of the tower, scanning the horizon. The stars are glittering brightly above, and the moon below them is dark, looming behind Helios ominously. She takes a deep breath and looks over the edge of the railing, lights of the settlements below mirroring the stars. The height used to scare her, but she’s not affected by it tonight- there’s too much else to worry about. Like the massive clouds rolling her way; they’re far off, but a satellite time-lapse shows they’ve been headed in her direction for hours. A storm on it’s own would be bad enough- usually she blocks out the thunder with music, though, and the pins-and-needles feeling that lightning strikes shoot through the echonet at her that are the real bother.

     But she won’t be able to feel it at all tonight. It’s a marvel to her, that she won’t be able to feel a thing beyond the limits of her own body.

     A few distant bolts of lighting knock against the ground, and she hears them through the echoes of cameras miles closer to the churning storm. Still, the sight unnerves her and she takes a step back. Footsteps approach and she turns her head to see Jack’s arrived already; her worry melts away. It’s a comforting sight, and she paces to his open arms, leaving the heavy clouds at her back.

     “Hey there, princess.” He says as Angel grips her arms against him. She’s got some big sweater on, a real hideous one in his opinion, but he doesn’t say anything. He raises a hand and strokes her hair, hugging her back. She’s tall now, and instead of having to lean down to hug her, her cheek brushes up against his as she stands up on tiptoes. She doesn’t reply to his greeting, but the hug is more than enough. She pulls out of the hug a little quicker than he wants and smiles up at him, and he can’t help but lean to kiss her forehead. She hasn’t started telling him she’s too old to be babied, and until she does he has no plans of stopping.

     “C’mon, let’s get you back inside.” he says as he nods back at the path to the door, and she grabs his hand, walking with him.

     “That sounds good. How’ve you been?” She asks him, and she decides not to bring up the storm. Maybe it’ll blow itself out by the time it reaches here, she hopes. It’s been a few years too, since he’s seen her upset by storms. It’s embarrassing enough that she used to be upset by them then, and worse that she still is now. Immature, she thinks. No, for now, she decides, she’ll keep her mouth shut.

     “Oh, on top of the world. Nothin’ new to report. Well. Actually, I got this new line of bots we’ve been testing. Get this- they shoot skag mating pheromones.” he gestures wildly with his free hand, and Angel can’t help but laugh as she watches. She can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but she doesn’t care.

     He’s not joking, to clarify.

     “Well, if that doesn’t stop them, I don’t think anything will.” She giggles, and looks across the platform. Her eyes widen as she remembers something, and she gives him a smile.

     Her hand pulls away and she half runs ahead of him, shouting back at him with her head turned, “Hold on, I want to show you something.” She disappears around the corner and he folds his arms, waiting. His gaze wanders a bit and he watches the sky for a moment before he hears her again, steps slowed. She turns the corner holding a jar, lid held on with a loose hand, and she’s smiling down into it. He starts walking and meets her halfway, and she holds the jar up to him to see.

     It looks to be some kind of lizard, but it has a few too many eyes and he’s not exactly sure what evolution did to its tail. Tails? Tentacles? He doesn’t know.

     “I caught it earlier- it’s the first of its kind I’ve seen so far.” She says, evidently proud. He takes the jar gently and turns it over, noticing glowing spots along its body. It’s an interesting little creature, but he can’t help but worry about Angel chasing after things. One of these days she could end up bitten by something really nasty. Still, he keeps his voice light as he hands the jar back.

     “You know sweetie, I try to make sure the pantry here’s stocked for you.” he says, and she rolls her eyes and tries not to smile and encourage him.

     “I was getting bored of fruity loops and canned veggies, I guess.” She replies, and she leans down and unscrews the lid, allowing the glowing critter to dart off. She leaves the jar by a railing post and walks ahead, and he’s still smirking at himself as he follows her inside, gait slow and hands stuffed into his pockets. She doesn’t realize she’s put him between herself and the storm, but she does feel the butterflies settling as the door slides shut behind the both of them.

* * *

      He’s already thrown his bag into the bedroom he usually stays in; a humble little room with a bed big enough for five people, a fridge, television and computer screens galore, a snack bar, a private bathroom with a hot tub, and, you know, the works. It’s okay he guesses, but not as nice as his room on Helios- and it’s not like most of it will be any use soon. Computer screens are just dead metal and plastic when they don’t have power, and most of the entertainment factor in the room is electronics.

     But, that’s why he stuffed the bag before he left. Well, honestly, the bag’s contents aren’t going to be that great either, but to his defense he had little time to prepare for this. Angel curls up on the couch while he retrieves it, unpacking his clothes to a bedside shelf. She’s wrapped up in a blanket by the time he returns, entranced in the echonet. The sweater’s draped over the back of the couch behind her, half on the cushion and half on the shelf that runs along it, apparently too warm after all. Her marks are glowing ever so softly, and he doesn’t disturb her for now. She’ll be offline soon enough, he realizes, glancing at the time displayed across the room.  He hops the couch easily and throws the bag down beside himself. The couch is inset in the center of the room, a giant circular shape with a table encircled by it. He gives the room one good last look, and then relaxes into the cushions, leaning his head back, and closes his eyes. The bag indents the couch on his right, and Angel sits farther off, to the left.

     After a short while, he looks at her and checks the time.

     “Time’s almost out.” he warns her, and she nods in response.

     “How much longer?” She asks softly.

     “Ten minutes?” he offers, a bit unsure. “I’m guessing you’re not gonna wanna be plugged in when it happens, though.” She shifts in her spot and he feels her grow distant again. Ah well. Hopefully she took the advice to heart. He lets his mind wander as he waits, and tries not to think about the nervous edge growing in his stomach. He’d sit closer, but honestly the siren thing kind of unnerves him sometimes.

     And that’s even with the collar functioning.

     Not that he’d say as much aloud; he’s never wanted her to be afraid of herself- helping her get over what she did to her mother took years and years and if they’re honest, neither of them is really over it. But she doesn’t deserve to fear herself.

     Still, he’s about to be alone with her for the first time the collar’s been off since they put it on her when she was twelve. It would make anyone nervous.

      He has a second of light to jump as her hand hits the couch beside him and she lets out a surprised gasp, and it runs out just in time for him to catch a glimpse of her panicked face before the lights die without even a sound. She gasps and her hands flutter against the fabric desperately, as if she were grasping for something.

     “Hey hey, easy now, Angel.” He says, fumbling blindly for the hand nearest to him; when he grabs it, she doesn’t pull away and instead her fingers wrap around his in a vice grip that he’d crack a joke about if he wasn’t so frightened. He can see by the dim glow of the markings on her other arm she’s not moving as wildly now, and he repeats his words as he leans over, letting his hand up her shoulder.

     “Easy now… You alright? Take a few deep breaths.” She sits in the dark, heart racing and nervous shivers overriding her, but the words reach her and she closes her eyes as he hears her start to control her erratic breath. She takes a breath in. Jack doesn’t realize he’s holding his own. She waits a moment, holding it.

     Calming down.

     The darkness presses into them both, deep.

     There aren’t windows in the part of the complex, no moonlight to soften the moment, and every pound of her heart echoes in her ears in the silence. She lets out the breath slowly. Seconds pass, and he sees the last of the glow fade from her arm as she reaches her hand up and places it on his. She’s warm, wrapped up in the blanket, and he feels the shock of ice water he’d swear someone dumped on him start to fade.

     She opens her mouth and stumbles with what to say, muttering, “I, um, I’m sorry, about that.” Her voice is shaky, and he wants to scoop her up in his arms and smooth her hair back.

     He stays still, gripping her shoulder a little tighter, and replies, “Hey now, what did I tell you about apologizing? I’m just glad you made it alright- that’s the worst of it. You did it, kiddo.”

     She smiles in the dark, but he only notices the squeeze she gives his hand. And then feels it slip away as she presses her back into the blanket, pulling it up again. He has to let go of her as she pulls the fabric over her shoulders, almost like a cloak. Under the fabric, she lingers her fingers over her collar. She repeats that phrase to herself; the worst of it gone. She hopes he’s right.

     “Here,” he says, pushing himself back up, “Let me get us some light.” She hears the crisp zip of the bag opening, and the dull thunk of something being set against the table. His lighter sparks twice, then catches and he tilts it to catch the wick of the candle quickly, and soon enough there’s a dim but steady flame. He looks up to see Angel leaning forward.

     “I hope you have a few more in that bag.” She says, scooting a bit closer on the couch. He flashes her a grin that’s mostly obscured in shadow.

     “You bet I do; and quite a nice little trove of things to keep us busy until the power turns back on. Here, hold the candle.” He tells her, picking it up off the table and handing it to her. She takes it and but looks concerned.

     “Careful with the wax, honey,” He says, reaching into the bag, “Ok, first thing we have: several board games.” He produces a box with colorful lettering on it and places it on the table. Angel leans in to investigate, running a finger over the art on the box.

     “’Monarchy’?” She asks, reading the name out loud. It’s not one she’s heard of, let alone played. And she’s frustratingly aware that she can’t look anything up to explain it to her.

     “Honestly, it wasn’t my first choice but apparently board games aren’t exactly plentiful on space stations. Who woulda guessed, right? Well, I have two more for us, here, but let me grab another candle first.” he digs another fat white candle out of the bag as he speaks, flicking at his lighter again and setting it down on the table. The combined glow is a little better than before, but both of them are already missing the bright overheads. Angel decides to set the candle down, next to the second, and the combined light is just a tiny bit more impressive. He gets back to retrieving the other games.

     “This one’s called, uh, ‘something-in-squiggly-foreign-letters’; I bet that’ll be a fun one,” he says as he stacks it up onto Monarchy’s box. Angel grabs the box and turns it over; the art suggests a green, lush forest and some sort of explorer group. He hears her hum in frustration as she looks over the foreign lettering. She’d be able to translate under normal circumstances.

     “I saved the best for last though-” He says as he pulls the final box out, and pulls an expectant grin, presenting it to her and stacking it up on top of previous game, still in her arms. She looks at the box and then up at him, a bit puzzled.

     “Uhh, wow… ‘House of Fear’?” She asks, and he leans over and shakes his head, smiling.

     “Just pullin your leg, kiddo. I’ve never heard of it before either. I only have them because they were all I could find on short notice. Here, I’ll take those from you.” he offers, grabbing the boxes and setting them on the far side of the candles. The shadows dance onto the walls, looking like a blocky pyramid.

     “They’re better than nothing.” She says, and then asks, “Where’d you find them, anyhow?”

     “I had them confiscated from some of the engineers. I mean, what, we’re up in a space station and they find time to sit on their butts, playing games?” he shrugs, shaking his head.

     “Unacceptable, and totally unprofessional, too. Anyhow. They’ve been sitting in a contraband room so I raided it before coming down. I found this too,” He says, grabbing a pack of cards and setting it on the table, and then he turns to grab the last of his happenstance little collection.

     “The last things I have for us tonight are, ‘Mutants From Beyond the Edge’,” he says, holding a book out to her. She takes it and cuts him off as she sees the cover.

     “Is this… a romance novel?” She asks, face concerned.

     “What makes you say that?” he asks. He didn’t give it a good enough look to tell either way; He’d have pegged it as scifi horror first glance, but apparently that judgment was wrong.

     “Just the rather suggestive art on the cover; that loose flowing dress on the lady and the, uh, flowing tentacles on her… friend, next to her... I’m gonna go with friend.” She says, flipping it over to read the back. He leans closer and she tilts it so he can see the cover while she reads.

     She giggles after a second, and says, “Listen to this- ‘…a shockingly raw and true account of one scientist’s journey to discover and study the ways of the mysterious and misunderstood creatures found in the freshly discovered cave system…’ wow.” Angel evens her gaze at him, smiles silently for a moment, and laughs at the description.

     “Hey now honey, love is a beautiful thing. I’m sure her and her ‘friend’, as you put it, are very happy together. And that’s all that matters.” he says, one eyebrow raised. She snickers and flips the book open halfway, craning it to catch the light. He watches and laughs as her eyebrows go up.

     “Well, I never said it was a _good_ book. Anyhow, we also have,” He trails off a moment and fishes out the last book, “‘An Introduction to Pan-universal Socio-economic Class Sys- good god Angel, what the hell kind of person even reads that sort of garbage?” He asks, frowning at the title.

     “I think they coulda used another hyphen somewhere in there. Maybe right below the warning label that tells you ‘don’t read this’.”

     “It sounds interesting to me.” She says, looking up from the trashy novel, and he shrugs and smiles apologetically, reaching over to pat her hair.

     “Well, that’s totally lame and I feel bad for you, sweetie. But, I mean, I guess I am the one who brought it along, so…” He trails off, realizing she’s still reading.

     “You’re gonna spoil the ending if you start in the middle.” He says, and she rolls her eyes with a grin.

     “What a shame that would be.” She says, and she slips the book shut, setting it down. He tosses the heavier book down on the table and lets out a deep breath, stretching.

     All in all, the little pile of distractions isn’t that grand. He makes a note to himself to invest in some actual interesting games in case this ever happens again, and improve the library here.

     But he’s good at making the best out of bad situations.

     “So, what do you want to do first?”

* * *

      An hour later later, Jack’s trying to wrap his head around the rules they’ve both bullshitted for the game printed in the language they don’t know. She thought it would be fun, and he agreed. It’s not like he’d ever had trouble making things up, anyhow.

     “Okay, but if the round soldier pieces count for double on the blue squares, could you feasibly get double double points if you got two on the same blue at the same time?” She asks, and he hums a response, thinking.

     ‘Only if the one’s riding the other- like a horse, or something. But you gotta trade in four of those little tokens to upgrade- no no, one of the ones that looks like a bit of wheat curled up on itself.” 

      She fumbles for a token on her side of the board, pushing aside the cards she’s collected and she grins as she finds the right ones.

     “King me.” She says, handing the token over. He fishes another blue piece out of a bag and hands it to her, and she stacks them up precariously.

     “So what do we call them, then?” She asks, then offers, “Maybe they can be… mhh… mutants? They ate the radioactive wheat and melted together on accident.”

     “And you’re supposed to get double points for _that_?” He asks, pulling a face.

     She shakes her head and says, “No, it was double _double_ points, remember?”

     He gives her a wary squint to let her know she’s walking on thin ice, but doesn’t stop her as she moves the pieces. It wasn’t her finest play, but he lets her have the points anyhow. He’s been going pretty easy on her, he’d admit. He’d even go so far as to say he’s letting her win. She’s not exactly in prime condition right now anyway; something’s been off about her and he couldn’t place it until he realized she was actually stopping to think about things. It’s strange, to say the least.

     “Hey, you gonna to take your turn?” She asks, interrupting his thoughts. He looks down at the board and consider his pieces, hers, and the spots on the board that have been “infested”. That decision was from both of them, so neither got points. He hesitates to answer.

     “Mind if we take a little break?” He asks, and stands from his spot on the couch, stretching his arms up and groaning as he walks away from the couch, towards the kitchen. She stands up too, stretching as well, and she follows. She yawns a little louder.

     “Most of the food is inaccessible right now, given it’s mostly digistructed.” She reminds him, but he opens the pantry and gives it a look; there are a few boxes, like he thought there would be, and some canned stuff. Most of it doesn’t appeal to him.

     “Yeah, I know. I was just gonna grab something to drink anyhow.”

     “Well, there’s some bottles of water left by the fridge?” She offers and walks past him to grab one. The lid cracks off with a satisfying noise in her hands, and she hands him the bottle after taking a swig herself before walking back to the couch. She settles back into place, sitting more on the blanket this time than under it, ands he sets about straightening up the board and pieces. He chugs the water, making the bottle crackle as he does, and then head back to sit down next to her.

     “I think I want to read for a bit.” She says before he can pick up the dice-designated objects they had been using. He reaches past them and picks up the books before leaning back into the couch.

     “Sure thing. Which one?” He asks her, turning them over and looking at them again skeptically. He really should have looked at them a little closer before dragging them down here. Too late now, though.

     “Uh, the one about pan universal class systems?” She says, more a question than a statement as she tries to remember the name he read out. He hands it over and shakes his head.

     “Given your choices, I’m not exactly surprised. But I am disappointed.” He says, and she grabs the book and ignores his words, leaning forward to grab a candle. She sets it on the shelf on the back of the couch, and shifts until the pages are cast in the right light. He pulls his legs up and crosses them, deciding to do a little reading too.

     “Move that other candle too, would you?” He asks, cracking his book open. It’s a little difficult to see, but the second candle helps. He rubs at his left eye unconsciously. Angel shifts till she’s got her back against his side practically, and soon they’re both engrossed.

     Jack’s halfway through the second chapter when Angel sighs and sits up, pulling back from him. At first, he doesn’t notice, thinking she’s just switching to a more comfortable position. But then she sets her book down. He thumbs the page he’s on and turns his head to her, a little concerned.

     “Holding out alright?” He asks her, and she nods in response.

     “Oh, yeah. I’m… fine. I was wondering…” She hesitates, then stops talking. He opens his mouth to ask her what she means, but she continues, “I mean, I wanted to ask you something.” He feels a twist of nervousness as his mind jumps to the thought that’s been nagging him for years. She’s going to ask if she can leave, tell him he’s holding her back or worse. He tries to keep his face mild while his stomach drops.

     “Sure, of course. What’s the problem?” He asks, setting his book down. She’s silent for another moment, chewing her lip and obviously trying to think of the best way to say what she’s about to. He thinks, _she doesn’t need me_ , and smiles despite it.

     “Is this about the tentacle friend in the book? D’you have something to tell me?” He asks, joking to try and lighten her up. She chuckles lightly, and shakes her head. It takes her a moment, but she turns her head to look him in the eyes.

     “Promise you won’t be upset?” She asks, and he nods, smiling to reassure her. He wishes he meant it. She takes a deep breath, and looks to the floor.

     “Okay. Well. If the power’s out… can I… or will you… I uh.” She fumbles with her words, and he feels more nervous the longer she takes. Finally, she manages to get out, “The collar. I want to… well, if it’s useless right now, can I have it off?”

     Jack gives it a moment of stunned silence before he answers her, so relieved he could laugh. He pulls it together and answers.

     “I don’t see why not.” He says, reaching for his pocket watch; the key’s inside, always kept close.

     “Might be a bit of a shock though; I mean what, it’s been on for ten years now?” He asks, and she shakes her head.

     “Eleven years.” She corrects, and her hands go up to touch it, gently. He pops the key out of its spot and leans forward with it. It’s an old fashioned lock; anything electric and Angel would have been able to remove it at will. It sounds horrible when he puts it like that, but… well, it is horrible. He knows that full on.

     “It won’t be too much of a shock. It was more jarring when it turned off earlier, anyway.” She says, leaning her head up. He’d almost forgotten he’s completely vulnerable to her now; something about her manner, their game and conversation had made him forget. Jack grabs the collar with one hand to steady it, but her hand intercepts his other before he can get the key in and he feels a slight jolt of fear. She evens her gaze at him, and they share a tacit moment before he slides the key to her fingers, letting his own hands pull away.

     It opens with a click, and she’s unfixed her gaze on him now, instead glancing downwards. Her hands open it slowly, and she slips it off her neck gently. She looks so delicate, there’s a strange sense of complacency coming over him.

     There’s also an unshakable fear they both share, though neither says a thing.Candle lit games only go so far.

     She sets the collar onto the table, and he doesn’t say anything more, letting the moment pass. Her hand passes him the key back, and he pops it back into it’s spot. He picks his book back up, and flips back to the page he was on, only half focused on the words as he stares at the pages.

     Angel looks down at the collar for a while, and then sits back and takes a deep breath. Her hands go to her neck, cold and exposed for the first time she can remember. It takes her a few minutes to get back to her book, but she eventually settles back against him, and he leans over to kiss the back of her head when she does.

     They read together for a while; Jack, only half invested in his book, and Angel, seemingly well enthused by hers. He notices she keeps a hand on her neck, fingers delicate against herself. For some reason, he’s glad.

     The candles flicker and he lets his head tilt back, staring at the ceiling for a moment. Time slips away gently and they let it. Maybe they should have more solar flares, Jack muses.

* * *

      As he just gets through chapter three, a peal of thunder roars distantly. He feels Angel tense up as it passes, though he stays still himself, too content to move. She feels a flutter of fear when she hears it, and tries not to move and disturb him too much as she grabs her blanket again, throwing it over herself. She hopes silently that’s the worst of it. Luck however, is not on her side.

     The thunder comes in again several minutes later, and Angel presses a little closer to him. He slips a leg down and puts a foot up across his knee, and raises an arm to put along the edge of the couch, and by extension, up for her. She moves closer to him.

     Jack’s book however, holds his interest, and even though he shifts to let her closer he doesn’t notice her growing discomfort. The thunder continues, periodically, and he doesn’t give it much mind until a particularly loud crack actually manages to shake the tower. Angel gives a whimper and he’s surprised to see her duck her head under the blanket, setting down her book entirely. He sits, mouth half open for a second before responding. She used to be afraid of storms when she was younger, but he’d assumed she had grown out of it.

     “You ok there?” He asks. He can’t see her whole head, but it’s an obvious no as she shakes it vigorously. He shifts to his side, facing her more, and pulls back the blanket slightly, exposing her face a little. His heart drops as he sees her expression; wide eyes wet and eyebrows pulled tight. She feels the warmth of embarrassment on her face, but more than that she feels sick again. He goes into protective mode immediately, discarding his book and slipping off the couch to kneel in front of her. He pats the blanket, putting his hand on a knee she’s drawn to her chest through the thick fabric.

     “Still afraid of storms?” He asks, and she looks away for a long time and then nods her head.

     “Sorry.” she mutters, and he shakes his head and gives her a sympathetic smile.

     “That’s ok, pumpkin, don’t you worry.” He says, reassuring her; of course, she appreciates his words, but they’re not going to stop more thunder from cracking and making everything shake. He puts his other hand on her head, and she leans into it, comforted at least a little. He pulls himself back up onto the couch, and lets her lean into him. She pulls the blanket back over her head, and he puts an arm around her. Part of him wants to crack a joke about this, but he’s worried.

     It gets hot under the blanket quickly, and she wishes she didn’t feel so terrified right now; she knows there’s no way the thunder’s going to get to her, no way it could actually harm her; but when the thunder cracks so loudly and the ground shakes she can’t help but feel wrong. Pangs of nervous energy jolt through her, and the aftershock make her shiver too. She shudders and tries to dismiss the thoughts swimming in her head, but with no luck. Her right hand finds her neck again and she raises her left, staring at the soft marks in the half-light filtering though her blanket.

     She wills them to stop, stares them down and pleads silently for them to settle down. He doesn’t realize as she starts to cry silently, holding herself back from shaking any worse than she is already. But the thunder doesn’t stop, and he can’t help but start to feel a bit useless as he feels Angel cowering against him with every crash.

     “C’mon.” he says finally, and stands. Angel doesn’t peek out from under the blanket, but he doesn’t blame her. He gives it a few moments, and then shifts till he’s standing in front of her, waiting. There’s another rumble as he waits, close and encompassing.

     The storm properly hits the tower- rain washing against it in sheets as the wind whips it. He scowls up at the ceiling, and hopes that the rain’s sound might at least give muffle to the thunder. A bolt shakes the room again and he looks back at the bundle of blanket in front of him. When it becomes obvious she’s not going to move, he leans down and eases his arms around her. She’s always been a slight girl, so lifting her isn’t exactly difficult.

     “Hold on then.” he says as he stands up, steadying himself, and he’s not sure if she’s trying at all. But, oh well. He came down here to take care of her.

     Turning from the couch and stepping up towards the hallway her room is down, he realizes the candles don’t have a far enough reach to illuminate his path. Arm full, there's no sense in trying to grab a candle, so he perseveres into the dark. Sight fades away and other senses take over; navigation becomes a matter of memory as he steps into her bedroom. He stubs his foot on the edge of the bed, but hardly even feels it, afraid to fall over.

     “I’m gonna set you down now.” He says, and steadies himself as he leans down. She sinks into the cushion of her mattress, amidst her other blankets and pillows.

     “Why don’t you crawl under your covers, honey?” He suggests, sounding desperate. There has to be something he can do, right? She does finally move, peeling away the blanket he carried her here in. She half rolls, straightening herself out as she eases her way out of the tangle. She can only see the faint dim outline of the door, lit only by the light of the candles hitting the wall of the hallway, and the slightest edge of him silhouetted against it. He can’t see her at all, but trusts by the rustle of fabric she’s settling in.

     “I... think you should try to get some rest.” He says, and he pats her shoulder and leans down to give her a kiss on the forehead before he stands up. She’s glad there’s no candle in the room; she knows she looks miserable. She doesn’t want to be alone at all right now, but she’s also terrified she might accidentally do something dangerous in this state. Thank god the blanket was thick enough to drown out the faintly pulsing lights from her marks.

     She starts to regret not telling him to stay up on the station when he called earlier.

     “I’ll go get you a candle, sweetheart.” Jack offers, and she hesitates speak up. When he’s half out the door, he hears her say, “No, no. I’ll be fine. Goodnight.” In a shaky voice. It’s not what she wanted to say at all.

     He lingers and then replies, “Alright. I’ll be in my room. Shout if you need anything. I love you.” He doesn’t hear a response, but that’s alright. He thinks she probably didn’t hear him in her little burrow.

     He leaves the candles burning by the couch and retreats to his room, not needing light to navigate. Might as well get some rest. He unclips his mask and shrugs out of his outerwear in the dark, throwing the clothes across the room so he doesn’t trip on them later. That is one small mercy about this power outage; summer means he won’t freeze to death in his undershirt, at least. Idle thoughts like that distract him from the thought that he should be doing more to help, at least until he falls asleep.

     Angel’s restless for what feels like hours, rolling onto her side, her back, pulling the blanket tighter and hiding while the storm rages on. She wants to go to him, would rather be sleeping in the comfort of his arms right now, but she’s ashamed. It’s so childish, this fear. Her hands go to her neck several times, mimicking the grasp of the collar, which _almost_ helps somehow. Her marks pulse as her emotions spike- worse than before- and she tries to breathe evenly to control them. A breath in, a breath out... no change at all, if anything she feels worse. She realizes she needs to be with him again, very much.

     It’s much longer before she musters up the courage and gets out of bed to go to him. She hesitates in the doorway of her bedroom, wrapped tight in a blanket still and casting her eyes down. Doubt swims in her head, and she remains fixed like a statue for a long while.   

* * *

      Jack’s fast asleep when he’s woken by the sensation of weight shifting next to him. It takes a minute to place himself; the thunder, the dark, and ah, what must be Angel against him. He’s confused.

     “Angel?” he asks, feeling for her in the dark. He touches an arm, notice she’s quivering, and the rush of worry he feels wakes him up properly. He doesn’t need to ask, not with this storm still raging on outside.

     “I’m sorry,” She says softly, nervous and sincerely. He knows she doesn’t have anything to apologize for; he shouldn’t have left her alone earlier.

     “Hey hey, c’mere, come closer.” He says, pulling her back into his chest. She’s shaking like a stunned bird, and he shushes her and runs his hand over her shoulder, over her hair. He starts whispering reassurances to her, little things. She lets him shift her closer, and he pulls his right arm under her pillow. He wraps around her, dragging the blanket to cover her properly, and she starts to feel a little better, wrapped up with him. After adjusting the blanket properly, he raises his free hand to smooth out her hair. She closes her eyes and focuses on him; his arms around her, his chest arching behind her. He feels right, almost peaceful, and he feels her hands raise and gingerly grab on to hold his right hand.

     He lays like that for a while, half dozing, idly playing with her hair. There has to be more he could do, but he frowns into the darkness because he doesn't know what it is. The sky is blissfully lacking thunder for that moment, but the moment passes quickly and he hears her whimper as another rumble shakes the room. She shrinks, and her hands clutch his. His own hand goes to her side and holds onto her firmly.

     “Angel, Angel, baby, you’ll be alright, you’ll be fine.” He says, leaning closer to her ear. He whispers, and he hears her trying to breathe steadily and get herself back under control. In the dark of the room, he can see her markings dimly light up from under the blanket, and feels nervous energy override him. But he doesn’t move. She doesn’t say anything, but she feels so much more in control of herself than she did alone in her bedroom.

     “It’s ok, I’m here for you.” He says, still pressing against her. He tries to keep his words soft and even, but he’s nervous. She nods slightly in response, trying to convince herself, but her hands are still tight on his own. He keeps talking, trying to distract her. There's no need to whisper, but he does anyway, gentle as he can manage. It feels intimate. Eventually, the marks fade out gently, and he smiles into her hair and gives her a light kiss without thinking. She feels it and shivers again, although something crosses her mind. Another crack of thunder interrupts her thought, but it’s not as bad this time, somehow.

     “You’re going to be fine, pumpkin.” He says and rubs his thumb across her side. He kisses her again, just a peck, and she murmurs when he does. He thinks it’s another little shudder of fear, and she tells herself it is too. The thunder still frightens her, but a gentler sort of anxiety gradually replaces it; she feels a flush across her face with every kiss he gives, and the feeling of nausea in her stomach gives way to a flutter with his every whisper. Despite everything, she thinks, he feels right. There’s nothing righter than the two of them, in this moment.

      The storm outside still frightens her, but she’s safe with him.

     “Atta girl. Try to get some rest.” She uncurls slightly, pressing into him, and he’s glad to feel her relax, even if it’s only a little. He raises his hand from her side and play with her hair again. It’s soft, silky, and comforting to him too, somehow, and he brushes it gently between his fingers.

     She drifts to sleep as they lay together, and he finds himself finally relaxing. He hopes by the time she wakes up, the storm has passed. And, being as she’s on his arm and he doesn’t dare disturb her, he relaxes with a yawn and tries to get back to sleep himself.

      Her breath slips into slight snores before he quite passes out, and he cracks a tired grin at the noise and leans for another gentle kiss. He follows her lead soon after, but his snores aren’t half as cute.

* * *

     When he comes to, his arm is draped over Angel’s side, and she’s stirring too. He groans, stretches his legs out a little, and he realizes she’s rolled over in her sleep, cuddling into his chest. She kind of reminds him of a little rabbit right now, and he draws his hand up her back, to rest on the side of her head. He edges a finger over one of the ports absently, until she shakes her head slightly.

     “Leave that alone.” She mumbles, and yawns. She rolls over, and he yawns too, hardly awake. He thinks they should just go back to sleep. But it seems she has other plans; he hears her edge out of bed, and feels the pull of the blanket as she slips out from under it. She toes her way to the doorway, and then the room is silent as she slips down the hall. He mutters, “Be careful.” But he’s not sure if she hears.

     She stands in the hallway for a moment, arms wrapped around her half-awake self. Her stomach turns, though less intense than earlier, driven by a different reason. More like flutters of anticipation than fear. She shakes her head and tries to fight off the thoughts swarming her, and resolves to move again.

     She returns to the couch, arms guiding her down the hall and into the living room. It’s a bit tricky, but she pads her hands into the darkness and finds his canvas bag, fiddling with the zipper again and shoving her hands in. A bit of searching gives her a candle, and she feels on the table for his lighter- if only she’d been paying more attention to where he put it earlier. Her fingers knock over a few game pieces, then brush against the boxes of the other games as she searches. She stops a moment as she finds the familiar form of her collar.

     It’s jarring, to feel it sitting on the table so dead. She realizes with mixed emotions she wants it back on. Strange, after all these years of silently wondering what it would feel like to have it off. But her hands leave it reluctantly and she trails them back over the table trying to find the lighter. She shakes her head and realizes that it might not be in here anymore, and gropes her way back with one of the candles she found.

     Jack realizes he’s fallen back to sleep in her absence when she comes back into the room, a dull thump waking him, followed by a quiet, “Dammit.”

     “Baby…” he warns, and she groans and bites her tongue in the dark. He’ll let it slide this time, he decides sleepily.

     “Where’s the lighter?” She asks, and he has to think a moment.

     “Back pocket of my pants. Think they ended up by the closet?” He tells her, and he hears her tread across the room, searching. It takes her a moment to find them, but she fishes the lighter out of the pocket and then crosses the room. He feels the weight of her sit on the bed, and hears her fumble with the wheel. Sparks cast momentary light once, twice, until finally an even light casts across his face as she puts the flame to a new candle. It catches slowly, and she’s careful with it as she places it on the bedside shelf. He realizes candles aren’t really something she’s seen much of before. Fire, either. She inches his mask away from the candle a little nervously before turning to him.

     She regrets it instantly, taking in his slumped shoulders and the mussed up hair framing his face.

     His real face.

     She’s seen it many times before but the sight of him stirs something within her. It occurs to her that she wants to lean down and kiss him right now, but the thought alarms her and she tries to ignore it. She can hardly look at him, glad her face is mostly in shadow. She thinks of something to say, anything…

     “The other ones are burned out.” She says, and his eyebrows raise slightly. Well, that nap was longer than he’d thought- he wonders how long they had been out. Probably a few hours at least, he hopes. Long enough for the storm to blow itself out, though.

      “Well,” He says, shifting and sitting up, “Maybe we’ve just about outlasted this little blackout.” She smiles and looks up to the ceiling.

     “Well, I think the storm’s passed, anyway.” She says, and then the smile fades.

     “Thank you.” She adds, and he smiles and leans to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. She feels her stomach flutter.

     “Anything for my little princess.” He says, and he gives her shoulder a squeeze and then withdraws his hand. He’s glad she made it through alright. She bites her tongue.

     Luckily, Jack interrupts the touching moment.

     “Though honestly? Your snoring was _way_ worse than any thunder we heard.” He adds, knocking her arm with the side of his hand. She scoffs with a grin and shrinks from his hand, swatting back at him. He stops after a few more knocks at her, and then leans back down into the mattress.

     “I mean it Angel. I almost had to smother you with my pillow.” He adds, and she catches him by surprise as she grabs a pillow in turn to try and hit him. He moves but she gets a solid hit in anyhow, at least until he gets a good grip on it and pulls it out of her hands. She pulls back and puts her hands up.

     “Don’t be hasty now…” She says, grinning. He eyes her suspiciously and lowers the pillow, wrapping his arms around it and laying on it so she can’t get it again. There are a few other pillows in arms reach, but he doesn’t bother with them. If she goes for one, he’s ready this time anyhow.

     “Alright. I won’t be hasty. Isn’t there something they say about revenge and serving it cold?” he replies, tone menacing. Her eyes narrow but she stands up and stretches, yawning. He relaxes a little, loosening his grip on the pillow.

     “There is. Guess I’ll have to watch my back.” She says as picks up the candle carefully.

     She’s quiet a moment before she says, “I’m gonna get back to bed now.” He can’t figure out why, but something about her voice gets to him, sounds a little off. Then again, she is dealing with a lot right now- the storm, the loss of her collar, his own presence. And who can blame her for wanting a little time alone to recuperate? But, he can’t let her go without a bit of a hard time.

     “Baby, you can’t go. Who’s going to keep _me_ safe?” he jokes, and she feels a little embarrassed as she shakes her head at him for being silly.

     “I think you can manage.” She says with a wry grin before heading down the hall.

     “I’ll remember this next time you need me.” He shouts after her.

      “Also, try not to set your hair on fire.” He adds, and down the hall her eyes flick down to the candle and she holds it a little farther from herself. Not that she was about to catch herself on fire, she’d insist.

     “You’d look _weird_ bald.” He adds finally, and hears her door shut loudly down the hall in response. He chuckles to himself before he rolls back over in the bed, the slightest sense of gladness in his chest. They did it- the worst of it over, right?

* * *

     Angel slips into bed quickly, blowing out the candle and leaving her dress on the floor. Welcoming the familiar texture of the cool blanket over herself, she pulls it tight around her body as if to cocoon herself away. She feels butterflies stirring in her stomach as thoughts of earlier come drifting to her. It’s been bothering her since she woke up, if she’s honest to herself. It’s only a matter of how honest she can be about this. She’s felt longing before. But this is… well… she knows this isn’t exactly normal.

     The thoughts won’t stop- She tries to shake them off, but they linger and she starts to realize how achingly vivid she can remember the feel of Jack’s whispers, his hand on her side, his presence behind her. She misses that safeness, that blissful feeling of belonging. Her room is damningly silent, and she can’t help but let her mind wander in the dark. She _almost_ misses the thunder now- with nothing to distract her, she can’t help herself from remembering his arms around her. Between her thighs, she starts to notice a gentle but persistent heat, one matching the blush on her face. She shifts to rest a hand on her side, placing it where his was.

     Closing her eyes and acting, not thinking, she trails her hand down ever so slightly, fingertips giving her goosebumps as she drags her hand to her hip. His hands are so much more worn, warmer, bigger, but if she focuses on thinking of him, well…

     she opens her eyes in the dark and sighs. Angel bites her lip, pulls her hand back quickly, and rolls over. This is ridiculous, and stupid, and a million other things. She opens her eyes into the dark and wishes she could integrate into the echonet and distract herself. There are some questions she’s ignored that way for years.

     But her mind follows the thought of him to its conclusion, and she burns with embarrassment as it does. She whimpers ever so softly as she imagines what it would have been like to feel his hand slip down her side and to the back of her thigh. To feel it brush against her through the fabric of her dress. What it might feel like to know he was pulling it up.

     It’s too much to ignore. Stifling another whimper, she rolls onto her back and hesitantly lowers her hand down, giving herself shivers before she even feels her fingers reach her side. This isn’t the first time she’s touched herself, but she knows this is different. There’s a constant unshakable guilt washing over her, something like the feelings she had earlier in the storm.

     She imagines his weight pressing down on top of her as she slips her fingers past the lace hem of her underwear, and gasps as she tenses when her fingers find their mark. She pushes her body up, as if to press against the thoughts of him. She blinks her eyes half open in the dark and tries to keep quiet as she rubs her fingers against herself. She’s burning hot and so soft, and she keeps telling herself she shouldn’t be thinking of him like this. There’s a foreign desperation in her hands, and she finds herself throwing off her blanket quickly and adjusting her other hand down to help.

     The room feels infinitely hotter, but she’s too lost to think about it much right now; throwing off the blanket helped, at least. Her other hand slips lower, and she finds herself slick to the touch, and eases a finger into herself thinking about how warm she feels, and what he might think of her like this.

     She closes her eyes and her toes curl as she thinks of her hands as his, working delicately yet deliberately. She thinks he’d be a little more practiced, a little more knowing in his actions. She takes her time and moves as she needs, tensing and relaxing with deep breaths. The phantom sensation of his kisses on her neck make her keen her head upward, opening her shoulder as an offering, giving her goosebumps and making her shudder. Eyelids flutter and her chest heaves, but the darkness betrays only the sounds her breath and the noises she can’t help slipping from her as she feels the pleasure mounting.

     The image of his sleepy, smiling face in the candlelight comes to her, and she comes with the thought of how much she wanted to slip back into bed at that moment, blow the candle out, and be held.

     It takes her a few minutes to stop shaking, and she returns to her senses quickly. Embarrassment washes over her, guilt and shame and worry creep in alongside.

     This is bad- She sits up, brushes a hand to move the hair out of her face, and lets out a deep breath.

     This is so very, very bad. Anything else, she could handle with ease.

     But not this.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Recovering from the closeness of the night of the storm, Jack struggles with feelings in inadequacy and Angel with ones of shame. Misguided and clumsily human, they go about their own ways of seeking each other's company to soothe their worries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter holds a few of my headcanons as to why and how Angel's containment happened. While a little simplistic and apologetic of Jack's canon actions, I chose what I did because first and foremost this fic is supposed to be mindless fluff and comfort.

     When the power surges back on, Jack awakes with a start under pale, bright lights. It takes him a moment of stretching and yawning and fighting off the blankets until he slinks out of bed. He stands a moment and takes a deep breath before pacing over to throw his pants back on, hopping into them with little grace and almost falling over as he does. He doesn’t bother with his button up or anything else, heading to the kitchen first.

     He eyes the door to Angel’s room as he goes, and it’s still shut tight. He has to smile at the memory of her slamming it last night. Deciding to let her wake on her own, and heads to the kitchen to make a proper breakfast.

     She stirs and blinks awake confused, at first thinking the bundle of blanket she’s latched onto in the night is him. It only takes a second for her to dispel that and shake her head. She can smell the scent of a warm, fresh breakfast cooking and debates getting up. She’s crossing her fingers Jack will knock soon and offer some, but there is the off chance he’ll just finish it himself if she doesn’t get out of bed soon.

     She shrugs into another large jumper and some pajama pants, and then stands in front of her door and stares down at the floor. After last night she’s not sure she can face him. What she did was… well, she can’t even think about it without her guts churning. She tells herself in a moment of desperation that if she goes to face him now, it might alleviate what she’s feeling. Maybe it was just a freak happening.

     Oh- her eyes go wide and she remembers her collar, sitting lonely and functional on the table. She glances down at the marks on her hand, and realizes she can’t stay in here forever. With a nervous flutter, she opens the door and steps into the hall.

     Jack’s just laying down a set of pancakes as she enters the living room, and he’s already got a stack staying warm under a plate, next to the eggs and bacon. Miraculously, they’re not burned at all. 

     “Mornin’ Pumpkin.” He calls with a smile and a wave. She doesn’t look at him as she darts around the couch and to the table, but she does smile and reply.

     “Good morning.” She murmurs, her voice wavering. He thinks it’s because she’s staring down her collar. Watching makes his stomach turn, like he’s seeing something he’s not supposed to. She runs her hand over the collar delicately at first, and then picks it up and clicks it back on without much ceremony. He raises an eyebrow.

     “So, how was it?” He asks as she sits down, cushions underneath her puffing under the sudden weight. She tilts her head, a little concerned.

     “How was what?” she asks, and he notices the waver in her voice isn’t gone.

     “Having that thing off for a bit- ah, dang.” He says, looking back down to his burning pancake. It’s salvageable, he thinks, and flips it quickly. Angel lets out an internal sigh of relief.      

     “Oh. Well. It was… different?” She says, struggling to find the right words. The sound of butter sizzling fills the silence, and he gives her time to think.

     “It was a bit uncomfortable, honestly.” She says after a moment, and he half smiles apologetically.

     There’s a tacit understanding that neither of them wants to name.

     “Wanna see something cool?” He asks, attempting to break the silence. She looks up at his face for the first time today with a skeptical eyebrow raised.

     “Sure?” She responds, not sure what it is exactly he’s going to do. He takes her response with a grin and picks up the pan, shaking it a bit to make sure the friction between pancake and pan is broken. It slides and he tosses the pan up and out, flipping the pancake clean into the air. Her eyes go wide and she smiles, and then her smile pulls tight and wry as it lands half in the pan, the other half threatening to break off in the air.

     “Ahh, damnnit.” He mutters.

     “Nice one.” She teases from the couch, and he twists the pan to try and get that second half, but it crumbles and falls onto the floor. He stands there a moment staring at it, a look of disappointment on his face.

     “Ah well,” he says after a moment, sticking the pan back onto a burner, “I already made plenty. Come help yourself.” He finishes, leaning to pick up the remains on the floor. He flicks the burner off and stands, throwing the half into the trash as she rises and grabs some plates from a cabinet, setting one aside for himself. She piles up the eggs and pancakes, and only takes a slice of bacon, then sits up on a stool facing the counter. Which is more than alright with Jack- he’ll eat anything she doesn’t and more bacon sounds great- he’s been starving since he woke up this morning. Well, “morning”- technically it won’t be morning on Pandora for another twenty hours, give or take, but he’s not going to nitpick right now.

     He settles in next to her, and lets out a happy sigh. He leans over and plants a kiss against her head, and turns on a screen. She freezes slightly with half chewed mouthful, blushing from the kiss. The screen has his full attention now, though, and she swallows down the food quickly, looking away.  

     “I’m sure they messed something up while I was gone, just have to check on what.” He says, scanning the screen. Angel shakes her head slightly, and starts to check for him. She knows the system better anyhow. She takes another bite absently.

     “Looks like there’s trouble in the 23rd wing; a section of the life support wasn’t properly shielded and some of the hardware was damaged by the flare.” She states, cheek full of pancake.

     “The problem is almost handled and there’ve been no casualties so far, according to reports.” She adds, and then checks other things.

     “Oh, looks like there were a few deaths in the Veins. Some workers weren’t wearing fully shielded suits and the solar radiation fried them. Seven dead and thirteen more in the medical bay expected to pass soon.” She adds, grimacing.  

     “Baby, don’t talk with your mouth full.” Jack nags with his own mouth full of bacon and eggs, and she stuffs more pancake in her mouth and looks away so he doesn’t see her roll her eyes. 

     “Also, thank you.” He adds, and she nods.

     “Nothing to it.” She smiles, looking back at him, and digs her fork into a drippy egg.

     Breakfast comes and goes, and she slips away, leaving her plate covered in crumbs and drippy yolk on the counter. He decides to head outside, and he’s met with a surprisingly cool breeze as he steps out. The whole tower is still slick from the rain earlier, and there are a few reflective pools gathered, mirroring the stars onto the ground. It makes the place look abandoned. He shivers, rubbing his hands onto his arms, and heads back inside. He meets Angel on the way in, just as she’s coming out.

     “I’ll be right back.” He says, brushing past her. She replies with an, “Alright.” And steps out to find the sight of her home drenched to be a lovely one- she thinks everything looks polished, and if she angles her head right, Helios is right there, close in its reflection on the hexagonal tiles. She pads up the staircase, to the covered area and towards the gentle rumble water cascading down. It’s wet here too, despite the roof. She stands and looks out over the waterfall, over the horizon and past the clear sky and out to the stars, grateful to have this. She made it through the night just fine, and she’s glad he was there to distract and help. She can’t help but fidget a moment as she remembers the less savory moments but, she tells herself it will pass. He joins her shortly after, his clothing finally all back on. It was too cold out here not to be properly dressed. 

     “Looks like your jar blew away.” He says, approaching idly. She turns her head to where it was. There’s nothing but wet tile and vines.

     “Good thing I let that creature out before it did.” She replies, and he nods.

     “That’d be some hell, riding down this drop in a jar.” He says, and she tilts her head.

     “It might have anyhow, given the winds.” She replies, and then walks to a railing post and leans over it, looking down. It’s an uncomfortable height, but it doesn’t affect her half as much as it does him. He picked this spot because it was geographically well protected, but he doesn’t like the height. He stands his ground, not joining her in looking. Nothing but the flickering campfires of bandit camps down there anyhow.

     “Little bugger probably had wings.” He offers after a moment, and shrugs. She replies with a hum and then retreats from the edge, noticing he didn’t come closer. She’d poke fun at him for that, but given how he comforted her during the storm she doesn’t. Jack wanders off a bit, and she catches a glimpse of him frowning up at the sky momentarily. She’s quiet, waiting for him to walk back.

     “I hate to say this, but I think they need me back up there.” He says, and turns his head to her. She nods, wanting him to stay like she always does, but feeling something more this time. Half of her wants him gone, an unusual sentiment for all the lonely days she’s pined for company.

     “Of course. The teleportation systems are all online. Should I prep anything additional?” She asks, and he thinks it over a moment.

     “Nah, I think that about covers it.” He says, and he looks down from the sky and motions with a nod of his head for her to follow. She trails behind him, watching the ripples his steps make through the puddles distorting the reflection.

     Jack packs up his clothing while she picks up the remaining candles and then packs up the game they were playing into its box. He hears her call out, “It’s called Trailblazers!” and he sticks his head out into the hall, leaning on the doorframe.

     “What?”

     “The game we were playing. It’s called Trailblazers.” She says, holding up the box with a smile. It’s satisfying for her to be able to tell him that, and even more so just to be able to know instantly.

     “And I’ve got some bad news- turn out we’ve been playing all wrong.” She adds with a smile. He mock pouts and give her an, “Oh no…” before returning to his packing. She brings the boxes and books into his room, offering them up, and he shakes his head.

     “Might as well leave them here. I have no use for ‘em up there. S’not like I’m going to be asking anyone to play with me, after all.” He tells her.

     “Oh. Righty.” She says, and sets them on an empty flat shelf across the room. She hadn’t really thought about it, but she feels a little bit of pride in knowing she’s the only one. 

     “Next time you come down, maybe we can play by the legitimate rules?” She asks, adjusting the boxes and books to sit lined up just so. She hears him zip the bag and feels an ache in her chest like he’s already gone, but stays adjusting the boxes so he can’t see her expression.

     He throws his bag over his shoulder and walks over to her, placing a hand up on her hair and ruffling it as he speaks.

     “Alright baby, I’ll be in contact. Have a good night here, ok?” He says, and she ducks slightly to get away from his hand. He’s got a lazy smile on his face when she sees him. 

     “Good luck up there.” She says, and she’s smiling when he takes a step back and waves. He’s left with that image of her, a lovely one. 

     He’s disappears and she lets out a deep breath, staring at the spot where he was before leaving the room quietly. 

* * *

 

     Jack’s return to Helios is, as he would put it, terribly boring. First thing he has to deal with is reports. Casualty reports, damage reports, reports from the eggheads who initially contacted him in the first place, and so on. He spends an hour on them before starting to lose steam.

    He chews on a pen that he doesn’t really need, given the documents are all electronic, and glares down the words on his screens. It’s a headache, and frankly, he’s surprised at himself for getting this far into them. He jams his thumb down on his desk, calling his assistant.

     “Hey Blake,you like reports, right?” He asks.

     “If you’ve got wo-”

     “Yeah that’s what I thought. Do me a favor and do these. Ciao!” Jack says, cutting him off and hanging up. He sends the reports on their way, then smiles at himself for being so efficient. No one else realizes it’s not easy being Handsome Jack. His smile fades when his eyes catch the framed photograph on his desk.

     It’s never been easy. 

     He doesn’t mean to, but memories come creeping back as they always do, his head tilted, starting up at the high ceiling. She never meant to hurt anyone, at first. And why would she have? She was a kid. Tiny, fragile. He tries not to think about the details, but they come anyway.

 

     The black singe on the side of her little orange dress, the smell of chemical burn wafting from the living room, his own shaking hands. Days passed and it all felt like a horrible nightmare. 

     “You want me to sell my own child?” He asked in a a voice that was hardly a whisper, and President Tassiter laughed at him.

     “You have no other choice, John. Be glad Hyperion’s taking interest in her in at all, as you _obviously_ aren’t competent enough to keep her yourself.”

     He could never shake that little sting, felt it every time he stared himself down in the mirror afterwards.

     He visited whenever he could- back when he was still John, it was difficult to persuade them to let him in. After all, an interloper in their experiments and tests would only complicate things. Especially because she seemed to destabilize whenever he came- he heard many times about them losing personnel to the core, and he was just glad she was too valuable for them to scorch and bury. Hyperion never had the dignity to fail with grace, and that meant any of their failures had to be erased.

     They collared her, and while that helped the stability it only dragged both their spirits down.

     Eventually, he was able to set up a way of chatting with her over the echonet. Or rather, she’d found a way out from the inside, a tiny message with a source he couldn’t figure out- when he did, he nearly had a heart attack. In the meantime, he’d sifted through as much information on Sirens as he could, asking her to help him, and eventually he stumbled onto something worthwhile.  _I think I found a way to get you out_ , he typed one day with nervous fingers, and then, _But I’m going to need your help and it’s gonna take a while_.

     The night he launched the satellite, he crossed his fingers and watched it until it was a speck in the night sky, and then nothing at all.

     When he finally strangled the life out of Tassiter and took over Hyperion, he spent a week agonizing over what to do with her, reading the reports of what had happened over the few years. Reports that called his precious child “specimen”. They made him sick to his stomach, and he’d wondered why she never told him any of it.

     Surviving his grandmother, he knew why she didn’t want to talk about it. He wasn’t about to pry, either. So he didn’t ask, but hugged her tight for the first time in years, trying not to notice the flinch or the port planted into her skull. They’d shaved off all her hair, so it was hard not to stare.  

     It made him sick, but he told her she looked perfect and kissed her forehead, assuring her that better things were on the way for them both. 

     He wanted to unplug her entirely, but she didn’t respond well to it, feeling nervous and sure something bad would happen if she wasn’t in containment. And besides, she’d insisted, she liked being so connected. So he let her stay while he put a team of researches into action working on figuring out exactly how to help her. Eridium, as it turned out, was at least the first step to bettering her. She responded to the samples brought amazingly- and terrifyingly, too. Jack had to step back and start planning a safer place than a space station to put her, given another mishap with the testing could have blown a hole clean through Helios and killed them all. And he made sure the samples she was given were much, much smaller. To his defense, she’d overestimated the doses after assuming she would react the same way a certain fiery siren had in the surveillance videos.

     The first time he took her to the bunker, it was almost completed. Her hair had grown back on most of her head, and she padded across the geometric tiles with trepidation.

     “You’ll be so far away,” he said, staring up at Helios. It was almost entirely built at that point too, only the tip of the left wing still undone. The closest thing to a home either of them had known for a long time.

     “I’m used to spending time alone.” She said, not out of spite, and he shut his mouth, not sure what to say to that. He felt a pang of guilt in his heart, one that didn’t go away but simply stacked up onto the things he’d let build for years. Some things were better left unsaid, he felt, and let her explore out her new home on her own terms. He’d shown her the BNK-3R not long after, and she’d smiled at it and called it a whale of a machine. Deep down, they both knew it was made to kill, not for any whimsical purpose- a ward and a guardian in one.  She had always been his eyes and ears planetside, and she’d seen his every action in turn and helped him execute them, too. Sometimes, she had offered up slyer ideas, subtler ways to get things done.

     It made him proud but also reminded him that his failure to keep her safe as a child had cost her any innocence she could have had.

* * *

     After Jack finally leaves, Angel spends the next ten minutes groaning at herself, flopped on the couch dejectedly staring up at the ceiling- she thought maybe seeing him again would dispel some of her feelings, but no. They’re worse, somehow. She drums her fingers against the surface of the table and bites her lip, deciding on how best to use the echonet to her aid. She’s painfully aware at the things she will find there if she uses the wrong terms, and there’s always the chance that Jack might look at her activity and find something amiss, too. She can delete and hide and change most of it, but well… she almost wants him to see it, too.

     She rolls over, face planted into the soft cushion, and considers shouting into it. She sighs instead, and rolls back onto her back.

     The first search she does is of Jack’s own browsing history. Most of it is endearingly laughable, some of it is worrying, and the rest is just clutter. But she knows what she’s looking for and she singles it out quickly. What is she even looking for, searching through his history in pornography? She doesn’t know. She chews her lip, not sure she can go through with this. The information is all there, it’s just a matter of actually hitting play. Angel’s seen it all before before. Being connected to the echonet all the time has given her more than a broad picture of human sexuality. Or at least, the access to that broad picture.

     The nerve to start the videos rolling, however, she lacks for now. She dismisses the tabs, erases her little foray into his information, and stands from the couch, pacing idly around the living room as she thinks. What was she even thinking, going through his history like that? To see if she was even close to… ugh, she can’t finish the thought. Her stomach flips and she notices her hands shaking. It’s annoying, having a body so prone to things she can’t control. Best to focus on the things she can.

     She dives back into the embrace of the echonet, checking through the Hyperion servers to calm herself. Her marks light up but she’s so engrossed she doesn’t notice. It’s a habit she’s picked up over the years, checking it all files by file in order. Chronological, by name, and so on. She never gets though it all. But it keeps her mind busy and sometimes she finds little things here and there that she can sort out. Or just amusing records. While it’s discouraged, a lot of personality can shine through the logs kept by workers on Helios.

     She wanders as she starts to sift through the data, no pressing assignment from Jack calling her away, and her personal problems pushed to the wayside.

     Not even a quarter of the way into her current file set, she realizes with a start she’s standing in Jack’s room.

     She frowns, and moves to leave quickly, erasing the video footage of her in the room as she does. It’s often that she finds her body wandering while she’s focused, but this feels too close to home. Is that too paranoid, she wonders? Her eyes catch on the boxes and candles and books left behind on the shelf. Taking a step towards it, she picks up one of the games and accidentally knocks the smaller of the two books onto the carpet. Of course, she notes with an eye roll, it’s the romance one. She uses the term romance with a little trepidation, even. She shelves it again with a tiny smile at the memory of Jack and her joking over the book, turns, her eyes catching over the rumpled up blankets of the bed. It’s not like they need to be straightened, but she finds it funny Jack would leave them a mess given how often he harps on her to keep her bed orderly.

     She checks the video feed from the bunker, in and out, and when she’s content she’s alone she gingerly goes over to the bed, kneels up onto it, and crawls to the center. She makes it to the place Jack was, and curls up. The linens don’t even smell like him, which is a disappointment, but one of the pillows has the faintest smell of whatever hair gel he uses. She closes her eyes for a moment and sighs, head laid across it. Her hair spills onto it, and she brushes it out of her face. 

     She wishes she could enjoy this but really there’s so much nagging worry any carefree bliss she felt is gone in an instant. She shoves the blanket off quickly, and doesn’t bother straighten it up before leaving the room hastily.

 

     The rest of the day passes all too slowly, and she manages to avoid his room, even immersed in the echonet as she is. She takes a little break after a while, making herself something to eat. She closes her eyes and listens to the static hiss of the digistructor, and when she opens them again dinner’s already ready.

     She decides to take some time for herself and be a “normal person”; that means hopping onto the couch and putting on some mindless shows to pass the time. A screen appears on the opposite wall, and she flips through channels idly. It’s not her best moment but damned if she doesn’t deserve things like this too.

     Unfortunately, she seems to be running into all the wrong broadcasts- sappy, cheesy romances (that make her think of Jack), reality shows with less than savory topics (that _really_ make her think of Jack)- even the cartoon she pulls up out of desperation seems to be romance oriented. She finally puts on a nature documentary, one of the brutal ones focusing on the top predators of the galaxy, and sighs contentedly as she watches alien creatures tear into smaller, slightly less prepared alien creatures. Jack always grimaces at the displays of animal brutality and the harsh landscapes, but Angel likes seeing them. Something about untamable power strikes a chord.

     There’s a commercial break and Angel sits up, stretching with a yawn. She looks down at her half eaten dinner, going cold now, then goes to the kitchen for a bottle of something. She wants something a little bitter, but fruity. She hears a familiar jingle and peeks her head back so the screen is in sight, and feels her face go red when she sees Handsome Jack’s smiling face on it. It’s a commercial for a new line of sniper rifles, and she shuts off the screen before it can play any more.

     If feels silly, that kind of reaction, but her stomach is fluttering and she doesn’t want to turn it back on now. She looks to the floor and decides to call it a night, leaving the room altogether.

     On her way down the hall, she peeks into Jack’s room, then looks down to the doorway of her own. She makes a decision and steps into his room, turning the lights off as she does. 

     The bed is ridiculously large, but comfortable. Gives her space to stretch out and bundle up. She thinks, distantly, it’s nice now but it would be much better with Jack back. She tries to bury the thought by pulling up video feeds to help lull her to sleep. Or what passes for sleep, for her. Most of the time she’s still active while her body rests.

     The first cameras she checks are of the workers down by the processing and receiving bays, the closest humans to her. A group of workers negotiate a heavy packing crate down from a crane onto a palette, and she finds herself bored with them quickly, and switches to another. Next is a lonesome camera somewhere peaceful, overlooking a still lake’s edge and the mountains behinds it, guarding the horizon. She starts to wonder what the lake might feel like to dive into when a thresher pops into sight. Her mouth twists into a frown and she silently curses at the thing for interrupting her. 

     The next round of cameras offer up nothing really valuable, but at least it keeps her busy, letting her mind wander; loud people around a bonfire, trains rattling down Main Street in a constant, soothing pattern, gentle waves lapping against icebergs, the glow and flux of aurora in the southern parts of the world. She’s already asleep at this point, really. 

     She watches and watches, drinking it all in. Eventually she watches daybreak over the lake Opportunity sits in. The stars fade out and a camera on the corner of a building cranes upwards to catch the last of them.

     Sometimes, the video feed is so beautiful her chest aches.

* * *

     Jack’s thoughts are thankfully interrupted as he gets a notification, and he checks it, eager to forget all the worries he’s let swamp him over the past half hour. As he opens it, he gets a thought and checks the cameras of the Bunker for a moment. Over the feed Angel’s zoned out, presumably dealing with something as she wanders. He smiles, feeling for once he did the right thing by staying with her during the night. Not wanting to spy, he closes the window, moving on to other things.

     The presence of Hyperion on social media doesn’t run itself, after all.

     He spends a few hours wasting time on the net, posting to his many personal and business accounts and laughing at memes before starting to wonder what Angel’s up to again. He really doesn’t want to bother her more than he already has, though. He wonders if there’s any excuse he can use to send her a message. He’s always been caught in the middle of feeling strangely self conscious for sending her personal messages and feeling justified. He leans over the desk, keyboard inset on the surface screen, and stares down the keys. 

     “ _Hope you’re feeling better_ ,” he starts, then erases every letter with angry taps. He can manage better than that, can’t he?

     “ _Dear Ang_ -” No no, he decides, that’s way too formal for him to address pretty much anyone as, especially Angel. She’d laugh at him, and not in a good way.

     Eventually, after staring at the blinking cursor for a few more seconds, he closes out the message and grumbles at the screen altogether, turning his attention to all the other pressing matters he, as president, has to deal with. He scrolls through the list of messages and tries to decide which to devote his extremely valuable time to.

     Nothing really catches his interest. 

     He sits back and realizes he’s terribly hungry, and he presses his thumb down on the desk again, calling Blake.

     “Sir?”

     “Have some food send in, wouldya? Chips and like a sandwich?” He says, realizing he’s not terribly sure what he wanted to begin with. Maybe he should have thought a little ahead, not impulsively called in frustration. He hangs up before Blake can respond, and stands up to stretch his legs. Desk work is really the worst, he concludes, pacing to his windows. The view has always been killer, but it’s mostly obscured now by papers and plans he’s since seen to the realization in steel and concrete.

     A few minutes later, Blake brings in his lunch.

     “How’re those reports coming?” Jack asks, taking a mouthful of salami and swiss, and Blake replies, “Almost finished.” Before he can chew it up.

     “Good. Send ‘em along to the angel for double checking when you’re done.” He says, trusting her more. Blake tries not to mind Jack’s manners; after all, he writes the checks.  

     Jack’s left alone, again, to finish his lunch, and he sighs through the food. There’s usually a billion things he can think of to fill the days, but that picture on his desk won’t stop catching his eyes. He rolls his eyes and leans over to it, picking it up with a smile. The picture’s old, but Angel’s wide smile makes it a favorite of his.

     He sets it back down and crosses his legs, mind wandering again against his will.

     The day drags on and Jack feels a little less Handsome than usual, and a lot more John. He hates it, but there’s no one to talk about it with and as a result his own internal conversation spirals to the same points over and over. It's like wearing a weighted vest, uncomfortable and every time he realizes he's moved onto other thoughts they surface again. 

     Jack finally resolves to send her something before he goes to bed. It’s a little silly, but there are some videos he needs to ok before they get broadcast. He tries to directly call her, but there’s no answer, and he glances at the clock and realizes how late it is.  Naturally, he starts up his own camera and records his own video, figuring if he can’t call her now he might as well leave a little message for her anyway.

     He leans up and turns on the camera, and starts it recording, fidgeting only slightly under the lens. When he’s done, he feels just a little better, and he watches it to make sure it’s alright before sending it off.

     That done, he stands up with a groan and a full body stretch that sends him yawning, and makes for the door. He snags his jacket off the back of his chair, and leaves.

     It takes him longer than usual to fall asleep, and in between rolling over to try and get comfortable and wrestling his pillows into the right places, he checks his echo device to see if she’s woken up and gotten back to him yet. Of course there’s nothing, she’s probably still asleep, but he can’t help but check a few more times before he manages to fall asleep himself.

* * *

     When she pulls out of the data, waking much later, she realizes she’s hugged onto the pillow with the faint scent of Jack. She scoffs, “Really?” and pushes it away flustered. Checking the time, she rubs the back of her hand against her eyes. It’s only about a half hour past sunrise, which she knew distantly given she watched it happen. But it’s half dreaming, at that point.

     She checks messages and finds one waiting from her from Jack. He’s left a video message for her, probably not wanting to wake her, and she plays it, expecting an assignment or duty to fulfill. Normal things, for her.

     “Hiya pumpkin!” He starts enthusiastically, face close to the camera, adjusting it. He leans back, setting his feet up on his desk.

     “You sleeping? Well, when you get up I have some videos I need you to review,” He says, and she finds the files quickly, and raises a skeptical eyebrow at them, but continues listening to the message.

     “Yeah, you know, I’m popular as a rock-star slash movie-star on the inner planets-” He throws his arms up in a shrug, smug little smile on his face, “And PR figured a little more good exposure would only bolster the popularity of Hyperion as a whole.” 

     “And if I’m honest, hon, they eat me right up on those planets. Who doesn’t love the hero of the story?” He asks, and she has to look away for a moment. He finishes, “So anyhow, watch ‘em for me and let me know if you think they should change anything. Love ya!”

     The message blinks out after that, and she decides not to watch them right away.

     Being bombarded with Jack’s propaganda for years has been… well, illuminating, to say the least. Jack seems to subscribe to most of it, but she’s one of the only people who knows how loudly the handsome hero from the videos snores. Or how many grapes he can fit in his mouth at once. Or that he wears old mismatched socks when he thinks no will notice. She giggles. 

     There is a lot to say for the glory and flash the videos carry, though; she knows it’s mostly lies but having a well crafted likable persona makes it so ridiculously easy to earn the support of everyone who doesn’t actually know what’s going on. And it prevents them from searching out the truth.

     It’s clever. Even if Jack buys into it all just a little too much. But she can’t blame him- it’s fun and games, and who doesn’t love that kind of thing? She’d admit, her own persona as The Guardian Angel of Pandora is one she’s all too fond of.

     She changes her mind about putting this task off, and starts the first video. Hunter Hellquist’s familiar voice starts by announcing the woes of life on Pandora; he mentions Hyperion’s noble efforts to send medical supplies down to an ailing community, which is almost partly true, if you squint _a lot_. Jack did send supplies, but the huge metal shipping containers all but destroyed the encampment. He almost fell over laughing when some poor fool recreated the Wicked Witch of the East’s demise under one of them.

     Hellquist leaves out that little bit, of course, words painting a somewhat similar story that cast a much better light on Handsome Jack and the benevolent Hyperion. The video wraps up with a shot of Jack standing in a hospital ward, Hyperion uniform clad nurses attending to teary eyed patients while Jack smiles down like a benevolent Madonna, one patient leaning up to receive a healing touch of Jack’s thumb on their forehead.

     Angel’s not sure she likes this one all that much; the ending is a little too heavy handed, she writes down as much and sends it back, starting the next one.

     The next is actually a Hyperion commercial, not just a report on the state of another borderplanet no one really cares about.

     It’s for luxury hover yachts, featuring several slow panning shots of the most recent models followed by one of a swimsuit clad Jack standing triumphant on one. Angel blushes, wishing she could look away, taken by surprise. She gets through the rest of the commercial chewing her lip and bracing for more. It cuts to some footage of him piloting one, supermodels partying on it, then to a more tolerable bit highlighting the stabilizing technology that steadies them. She’s glad when it starts to wrap up.

     Unfortunately, it finishes with another shot of Jack, drink in hand on a beach and sunset behind him.

     “Who cares if your boat doesn’t get wet when the girls do?” he asks, and tips his drink while Angel all but goes red.

     She closes the video and shakes her head, sighing. There’s a few things she could say about that one, but she only notes that it’s “A little over the top, maybe?” and sends it back. She wonders if that was actually Jack in the video, or a double, and can’t decide if that would really make the situation all that much better or worse.

     She decides there are more important things to dedicate her thoughts to and she disconnects, realizing she’s still in his bed.

 

     Angel wonders when or if he’s going to call back, and she paces to the kitchen in the meantime, pouring herself some cereal. Jack might be a good cook, but she’s always been intimidated by the idea. And the last time she tried to make something she zoned out and ended up setting off the smoke detector, prompting the built in sprinklers to soak the room and Jack to come down from Helios. He was inconsolable for the first half hour, so Angel ignored him and sat wrapped up in several towels outside while he started to mop up the puddles. He came back outside and handed her a soggy, black on one side grilled cheese and asked her, “Worth it?”

     She was quick to toss it over the railing, embarrassed and a little upset.

     She smiles at the memory, though once again she’s faced with Jack as she stares down the cereal box. She didn’t get why he needed a cereal brand all his own, but the numbers coming in suggest he’s not completely loopy for making one. It does force her, however, to realize she’s in deep. It’s bad enough that Jack’s built a ridiculous following, and it really doesn’t help that at this point she’s been immersed in it for years. But that thought also sparks some hope. 

     She reasons it out- it makes perfect sense, when she thinks of it like that- after years and years of seeing the glorified image of Jack, a little crush makes sense. Who in the galaxy isn’t head over heels for him? Well, she changes her mind, she’s not head over heels as much as she’s just… fond of him? Yeah, she tells herself. Fond. 

     She just hopes, swallowing a sugary, multicolored mouthful, she gets over this all soon. It’s inconvenient and distracting. She leaves the bowl unfinished sitting on the counter, walking to the couch and sitting opposite of the side they were on during the blackout.

     She stares at the wall and then glares at the floor. There’s usually so much little busywork she has to do for Hyperion, but none of it seems all too important right now. Nor does any of it hold her attention. Hoping to get through by sheer willpower alone, she starts on some of it anyway.

     She has to kill the time somehow.

* * *

     Of course, he’s already awake when she sends back her opinion on them. Jack laughs at her responses over a waffle topped with whipped cream and berries, and sends a brief message to the marketing department giving them the green light. He dips a piece of the waffle in syrup, and decides to call her after he’s done with breakfast.

     She’s just curiously edging back into dangerous territory when he does call her. The busywork was fine for a small while, but she got to thinking again about the web pages and information she failed to open and actually look at from his history yesterday. She lingers over a link, wondering what she’s about to find when a small alert makes her jump almost out of her spot on the couch.

     It’s Jack. Does he know? What else reason would he call for? She feels her heart racing as she closes out of it all and answers, trying to sound natural as she does.

     “Hello Jack.” She says, voice surprisingly even despite her heart rate. All those times lying to travelers really comes in handy, she guesses.

     “Mornin’ kitten. Just wanted to uh,” He stumbles a second, not wanting to let on anything, “say thanks for reviewing those videos for me.” She smiles and almost sighs in relief.

     “They were interesting, as always.” She replies, regretting her word choice. _Interesting_?

     “Of course they were baby, they had me in ‘em. All that aside though, how’s your day been?”

     “So far so good,” She says, shifting on the couch. It’s been dull, honestly, but she’s not about to say that. He’s busy enough as is.

     “Good, good. Anything you need?” He asks, and she wants to tell him to come back down and be with her. To tell him she wants to see him more. 

     “Nope.” She answers, and there’s an awkward silence as neither of them knows what to say. Eventually, he speaks up. 

     “Well, I’ll let you go then.” He says, “Have a good day, Angel.”

     “You too, Jack.”

     When the call is over, both of them linger on what was said. He wonders if she was just busy or if there was some other reason she sounded so distant. Insecurity knocks on the door, but he refuses to let it in, telling himself she _was_ just busy. He’s her hero, after all. Angel wishes she had the courage to tell him to come back.

* * *

 

     They both keep to themselves over the next few days, both of them getting lost in Hyperion work; Angel intentionally distracting herself and Jack just being, well, himself. While he’s lucky enough to fight back his own problems by drowning them in gold, glory, and mayhem, she finds herself unable to even look at his face on the cereal box as her feelings refuse to fade. Worse, they seem to be getting more intense. She hangs on his every word and finds herself smiling over memories of them together absently. 

     Finally, she breaks. The curiosity outweighs her fear, and she sits down and resolves not to let a few links on the internet intimidate her any longer; she’s a siren, dam- er, darn it- powerful beyond understanding and unbreakable. Or at least, that’s what she tells herself as she braces for the worst, not sure exactly what she’s hoping to find out with this little venture. His preferences? Something like that, she thinks.          

     She does it while she’s taking a bath, not for any preplanned purpose but because she knows there’s no camera in the bathroom. Not that her investigations are displayed anywhere or are obvious to anyone but her, but it makes her feel just a little better about it. As if hiding, she sinks slightly into the water, bubbles high around her head, and starts her task.

     The first video make her blush- even though she’s muted it and she doesn’t watch all the way through, of course, skipping through parts of the video to try and get through it quicker. She knows it’s because of her own feelings, but the man in the video reminds her of Jack. She stops it and closes out the window, and reflects.

     At first glance, there’s nothing obvious or striking about it. Which makes her glad, to say the very least. This whole situation is strange enough without having to deal with the weirder parts of sexuality. She starts to feel just a little better, and moves on to another video. 

     It’s a little more shocking, to say the least. It’s Jack. She stops it before the camera can switch to a raunchier shot and realizes with a twist in her stomach it’s a double. That makes it a little better, somehow? She’s not sure. With even more trepidation than before, she resumes it, feeling more than a little mixed up over watching Jack get intimate with someone. Well, not _Jack_ Jack but… someone who’s close enough. She starts to wonder exactly how close the doubles are, then shakes her head and tells herself to stop, and stops the footage. 

     She moves onto the next one, and starts to realize maybe she wasn’t just imagining things when the first video’s actor reminded her of Jack- this one has a man with a similar look- light eyes, a swoop of brown hair atop his head, and a strong chin that disappears between the actress’s legs. She pauses it, squints a moment. There are distinct clips on the man’s temples.  

     She takes a step back on the site the videos are hosted on, and realizes Jack’s comment about them “eating him up” elsewhere in the galaxy wasn’t exactly an exaggeration; There’s a whole section on this site dedicated to videos of Jack look-alikes and… well… Angel starts to laugh, having to sit up and covering her face with her hands. This is so ridiculous. 

     She can’t find the right word, but it’s so like him to get off to himself. Like narcissism but worse and somehow endearing, she decides as she wipes away a tear from the corner of her eye. It’s a little less intimidating, checking the next few- all of them featuring some variant of copies of him. Some are spot on- she’s pretty sure the second _actually_ was one of his doubles (and she doesn’t even want to know how or why the video was created), but a few of them are a little more obviously not him. Noses just a little too small or pointed, lips that don’t smirk quite the same way… bargain bin Jack-a-likes that don’t have quite the same charisma he does.

     She closes them all out feeling significantly better, turning over in the bath with a smile she can’t help but pull.

     He watches porn of himself. She chuckles again and shakes her head, and pulls herself out of the bath, grabbing a fluffy towel and stepping from the water. The room smells flowery, and she pats down the bubbles that cling, paying special attention to the ports on her head, and the two down her spine. She wraps herself tidily and leans over the tub, plunging her arm back in to drain it. There’s a sudden knock on the door, and she almost slips into the bath again when she hears it. 

     She goes still, staring across the room at it. He heart starts pounding, and she stands up slowly. Instantly, she checks the video feed outside. It’s Jack- she knew it was, who else would it be? But it’s still a surprise. She stops paying attention to the camera and takes a step back, wondering if she has anything to hide. She remembers the messy sheets on the bed in his room, and hopes he hasn’t been in yet. It’s nothing all too obvious, but she feels like it’s a death sentence.   

     “Angel?” She hears, muffled through the doorway after a second. She swallows.  

     “I’ll be out in a moment.” She says, and bites her tongue. He doesn’t know about what she was doing just now, logically, but that doesn’t make her feel any less jittery as she grabs another towel and wraps her hair up into it. One last glance around the room leaves her feeling a little bit more confident, but she’s still nervous when she slides open the door.

     He’s not there anymore.  

     Angel peeks down the hallway, then steps out and paces to her room. She dresses quickly, leaving the wet towels rumpled on the floor in exchange for soft pajama pants and a Hyperion t-shirt. She runs back into the hallway, up on the balls of her feet, trying to pad quietly. The door to Jack’s room is unopened, and she slips in, knowing from the cameras that he’s waiting leaned against the counter in the kitchen.

     She scrambles to make the bed and put everything into place, trying hard to be quiet as she can be. Pillows get tossed against the headboard, and she finds herself cursing how stupidly large the thing is before she finishes, tucking and smoothing. Preoccupied, she doesn’t notice Jack walking through the living room, towards the hall. Angel takes a brief moment, lets out a breath, and looks proudly over her work- smooth linens and pillows all in a row. It looks nicer than her own bed has for years now.

     “You didn’t have to make it for me,” Jack laughs, a little surprised. She turns around to see him in the door, and hopes he can’t hear her heart beating. It sounds ridiculously loud to her, and she stumbles over a response in her head, not sure what to say. Jack starts to wonder if she’s alright, but she answers with what tries to be a casual shrug.   

     “You should have warn- or I mean, told me you were coming.” And looks back to the bed, “I haven’t done much clean up from the, uh, other night, so it was still messy.” She gestures at the bed. Jack raises an eyebrow.

     “Yeah, I saw.” Jack says, “Those candles are still melted to the table out there.” He jerks his thumb in the direction of the living room. She starts to wish she’d scraped them off.

     “Honestly, it didn’t even cross my mind.” He says, and pats her on the head, her hair still damp, stepping past her to flop down on top of the covers.

     “Mmh, thanks though baby,” he says, and rolls over, stretching out. Angel’s only minimally annoyed at the creases and wrinkles, just glad he’s not saying anything else. She takes the moment to direct the conversation elsewhere.

     “So, to what do I owe the occasion?” She asks, sitting on the edge of the bed. She’s not actively worried anymore and the panic at him showing up out of the blue is fading, replacing itself with a sort of buzzing anxiety that’s just ever so gentler. She is glad to see him, even through all the problems she’s been dealing with. But she hopes the feeling in her stomach passes soon. 

     “I had a really boring meeting earlier, decided spur of the moment to come down.” He answers, adding, “Thought you’d be able to help lift my spirits, y’know?”

     She smiles, but she really wishes she had some time to prepare herself. Then again, she thinks, there’s no way to really adequately prepare for Jack.   

     “As always, I’d be happy to help.” She says, and he gets up, leaving a Jack sized indent in the bed. Angel eyes it with half a smirk, shaking her head on the way out. 

 

     Jack ends up popping on a movie, some comedy that he talks over most of. Angel finds him funnier than the actors, though she ignores both of them, sitting a little ways off on the couch immersed in the echonet. She finds it easier to ignore him that way, instead of blushing and laughing and falling further every time he opens his mouth. Because that’s just how it goes when he’s around. But even she catches herself tuning more into him now and again.

     Eventually, she’s ignoring the echonet in favor of goofing off with him, laughing at his constant mockery and comments. It would be a downside if she was actually interested in the movie- he never shuts up during them- but today it’s a welcomed surprise.

     When the credits roll, he leans back into the couch and sighs contentedly. Angel assumes he’s going to crack at least another joke, but he turns his head and gives her a soft smile. She looks confused for a second, not sure what to do as his gaze lingers, but she feels herself turning red. She looks away and hears Jack rising, walking over to her. He leans down and she feels his hand on her shoulder. She looks at him, little spikes of panic in her gut. If she could just muster up the courage to lean up a little…

     “Thanks for letting me visit for a while.” He says, and pats her gently, and she resists the urge to raise her arms into hugging him. She could though, she thinks. Just refuse to let go. But she doesn’t, not wanting to be so obvious.

     “You’re leaving?” She asks, and she brushes the hair out of her face. Jack nods, pulls his hand back.

     “Yeah. I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” He says, hands in his pockets.

     “I like when you visit, you know.” She says, and he’s glad to hear it. A tiny nagging voice wonders if she’s just saying that. He never wanted to spend time with his family. He’s tried to make sure there was a difference between his own upbringing and hers but given she spent years locked away? He’s not too sure hers was much better.

     “Glad to hear, baby. But I still have to go- there’s a lot on my schedule today” He says, shrugging off his thoughts. He does want to stay longer, but he feels like he’s overstayed his welcome. While he’s busy worrying, she stands up and hugs him, pressing her face against his back and surprising him.

     “I understand.” She says, and he smiles, putting his hand on one of her arms.

     “Come back soon though, ok?” she asks, amazed she had the bravery to do so. Surprise shows on his face, his mouth parted in a tiny gap. It’s the first time she’s asked him outright to visit her in longer than he can remember.

     “Sure thing, Angel.” 


End file.
